Jericho Brown Poems

I spent what light Saturday sent sweating
And learned to cuss cutting grass for women
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This is what our dying looks like.
You believe in the sun. I believe
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"O Blood of the River of songs,
O songs of the River of Blood,"
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To believe in God is to love
What none can see. Let a lover go,
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They sat on the dresser like anything
I put in my pocket before leaving
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